The Last Will & Testament of Charles Carson
by Onesimus42
Summary: Just my late night wonderings about estate planning. More than a smidgen of C/H now and you won't have to squint
1. Chapter 1

**As always, I don't own them, although I'm beginning to wonder if they own me or my imagination at least. **

Charles Carson had been pondering an action for quite a while. As he came to know and like his employer's new heir better, he decided to take that action. While helping Mr. Crawley with his coat one night, he asked, "Mr. Crawley, I wonder if I might be able to speak with you away from the house on a matter of personal business."

Mr. Crawley gave him a puzzled look and assured him that he could, "Actually, Mr. Carson I will be at home tomorrow afternoon, if you would like to come I'll be happy to see you then."

The following afternoon, Charles walked down to the village to Crawley House. Not sure exactly what to do he went to the servant's door. He informed Moseley of his appointment with the master of the house. Moseley seemed to be a little disconcerted as well.

He was shown to the study, and Mr. Crawley welcomed him and offered him a seat. Charles perched uncomfortably on the edge of the chair opposite Mr. Crawley's desk.

"Mr. Crawley, I find myself in need of a solicitor, and you seem to be an honorable man," he began cautiously.

Mr. Crawley nodded his appreciation for the compliment, "Go on."

"Well, I-, sir, anything that is said here will be in strict confidence?" he asked hesitantly.

"Surely you've not gotten yourself into trouble Mr. Carson," Mr. Crawley began jokingly and then at Mr. Carson's level look (glare), assured him that anything said in this office would be held in confidence.

"I am growing older. I do not have any close relatives. At my last calculation, I believe that I may have a third cousin twice removed. I would prefer that someone I care about benefit from what small amount of money I have been able to save."

"Ah! So you would like to make a will," Mr. Crawley said as he became more businesslike.

Relieved that he had caught on so quickly, Carson smiled, "Yes; that is exactly what I would like to do."

"Well that's simple enough," Mr. Crawley said as he pulled out a sheet of paper to make notes, "Could you give me some idea of the sums and items involved?"

As Carson began to reveal the money involved and list what few personal items he had that would be worthy of passing on, he had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Crawley's eyes widen in surprise and mouth gape just a little.

"Mr. Carson that is a respectable sum. Please forgive my impertinence, but since I will one day possibly be your employer…"

"No, Mr. Crawley, my salary is not that large, but I have had the benefit of many years to save that sum, as well as a few successful investments," Mr. Carson said with the smallest of smiles.

"Oh, right, well, then," Mr. Crawley began again, "and who would the beneficiaries be?"

"Just one beneficiary, Mr. Crawley," Mr. Carson replied softly, "Mrs. Elsie Hughes."

"I see."

Blushing, Mr. Carson felt the need to explain, "I just would prefer that the money go to someone I know. I don't want you to think that there is anything personal between us, -not that I don't think very highly of Mrs. Hughes, but.."

Matthew Crawley was astounded to see Mr. Carson, the unflappable butler so flustered.

"It is quite understandable that you would have developed a friendship with Mrs. Hughes after working together for so long. Is there no one else that you would like to leave anything to?"

"No one," Charles finished more confidently, "except maybe my conscience to Thomas."

The last was said low enough that Matthew chose to pretend he hadn't heard.


	2. Chapter 2

**Miss Puppet's comments got me thinking in a different direction. The smidgen of C/H has increased and will increase more by the end. If you're not into that, you should probably hit the back button. As always, I don't own them, but they're taking up an increasing amount of space on my hard drive. **

Mr. Carson left Crawley House by the front door. He'd been assured by Mr. Crawley that the document would be typed and ready for his signature in a few days. As he was preparing to leave, Mrs. Crawley came out of the drawing room.

"Mr. Carson, what a surprise," she said, "Have you brought us a message from Downton?"

"No, Mother," Mr. Crawley cut in to rescue him, "Mr. Carson had a small matter of business to discuss with me."

"Oh, I see," she replied although she obviously couldn't see what business the butler of Downton would have to discuss with her son. Deciding that it wasn't her affair anyway she asked, "Mr. Carson, would you be passing by the hospital on your way home? I have a packet that should be dropped off there, and it would save me having to send Mr. Molesly out."

Mr. Carson assured her that he would be happy to drop the packet off and thankfully got on his way. He would have used any excuse at that point to leave this uncomfortable situation. This had all become rather more than he could stand.

He dropped the packet off at the hospital and headed back to Downton Abbey in deep thought. Making out one's will did bring one face to face with mortality. He walked back slowly reflecting over his life. He wasn't entirely displeased with his life. He was proud of his work. Lord Grantham was a good master, and he was honored to serve him. Mrs. Hughes was a good friend and companion; he was glad to think that she would benefit from his frugality. His only regret, which he was almost afraid to admit even to himself, was that he and Mrs. Hughes had never moved beyond Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes to Charles and Elsie. Altogether, though, he was satisfied with his life. He would not have been satisfied, however, to know that he had been observed by a pair of speculative eyes as he left the hospital.

Tom Branson had been sent down to the village to pick up a few packages. As he drove by the hospital, he saw Mr. Carson leaving. He stopped the car to wait for him, but Mr. Carson turned down a different path too narrow for the car. Mr. Carson had been so deep in thought that he hadn't even noticed him. Tom decided that he must have other errands to run or wish to take a shortcut back to Downton. He shrugged his shoulders and started back down the road.

Arriving at Downton, Tom took the packages in and stayed in the servants' hall to have a bit of tea and tease a biscuit or two out of Mrs. Patmore. When Mr. Carson walked past the hall, Tom called to him, "Mr. Carson, I'm sorry that I couldn't get your attention in the village. I could have saved you the walk back."

"That's quite alright Mr. Branson. I had some thinking to do, and the walk helped me sort things out," Mr. Carson replied and continued to his pantry.

Mrs. Hughes came into the hall in time to hear this exchange and sitting down to join Tom, asked, "You saw Mr. Carson in the village?"

"Yes, ma'am, he was coming out of the hospital and so deep in thought he didn't even see the car," Tom replied smiling.

Mrs. Hughes received this news with some disquiet. Mr. Carson was always very careful to let her know when he was going to the village and to do any errands for her while there. Today, though, she'd not even known he was gone until she went to his pantry to seek his advice on the dessert service. Now to find that he'd been to the hospital and had things he needed to 'sort out' was most worrisome. Shaking her head a little, she tried to tell herself that she was being very silly. Mr. Carson would most certainly tell her if anything was wrong. She did resolve to watch him closely the next few days for any sign of sickness. It wouldn't do for her butler to be getting ill.


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm sure that someone will spot my blatant plagerism from Cranford, but I just couldn't help myself. Again, I don't own these guys, much as I wish I did.**

Charles Carson was being observed. For someone whose profession requires that he be slightly less conspicuous than wallpaper, this development was very disconcerting. For some strange reason Mrs. Hughes was watching him closely, mothering him almost. She had always taken a friendly interest in his welfare as he did hers, befitting to close friends. Now though she was almost smothering him with her attention.

Just yesterday, he'd stepped outside for a breath of fresh air after luncheon, and when he came back, she admonished him for going out without a coat 'at his age'. He wasn't quite _that_ old. When he had expressed as much to her, her only comment was that 'some people seem much older than they really are.' That cheery thought had certainly made him feel much better and sent him to look in the mirror in his pantry for signs of his advanced age.

Today, however, had been much worse. After luncheon, he'd gone back to his pantry. While he was looking for a dropped pencil on the floor, Mrs. Hughes surprised him by coming to his door. Surprising him so much in fact that he rose suddenly bringing his head jarringly in contact with the bottom of his desk. The blow was so jarring that even now he had a slight headache. Having made it through the family's dinner with this infirmity, he was now trying to enjoy his own.

The reason he was only trying to enjoy his dinner was that Mrs. Hughes was watching every bite he ate to make sure he cleaned his plate. As he enjoyed eating very much, this would not normally have been a problem, but she had also ensured that he received a generous helping of everything. By the time the pudding arrived, he was feeling a little over full. When he pushed his pudding away half finished, Mrs. Hughes looked at him with such a concerned frown that he dutifully pulled his plate back and finished the pudding. He now felt positively green.

Going to her parlor after the clearing up was finished, he sank heavily into his customary armchair with a sigh, earning him an anxious glance from Mrs. Hughes. She asked with a note of concern, "Mr. Carson, are you well?"

At this point, he'd had quite enough of the mothering, so he decided to tell her exactly how he felt. "No, Mrs. Hughes, I am not well. My head aches from the great bump I received from my desk this afternoon. I'm feeling queasy from all the food you forced on me at dinner, and I'm a little fed up with your hovering. What on earth has gotten into you?"

She looked at him with an odd mixture of sternness and gentleness, "Mr. Carson, Tom saw you coming out of the hospital the other day so preoccupied that you didn't even notice him. Would you like to tell me anything about that?"

"Is that what all this has been about?" he asked incredulously, "I was there to deliver a packet for Mrs. Crawley. She asked me to drop it off on my way home. I was preoccupied with other things than my health on the way home. I'm in the prime of health, or at least I was until you started stuffing me like a Christmas goose," he finished with a smile.

She smiled back in relief and then asked curiously, "Why were you with Mrs. Crawley?"

Mr. Carson groaned. He had most certainly not squelched one rumor only to start another. "I was not with her. I was speaking with Mr. Crawley on a matter of personal business. I saw her briefly as I was leaving, and she asked me to deliver her packet."

Thankfully, Mrs. Hughes curiosity seemed to be satisfied with this explanation, and he relaxed to try to digest the enormous amount of food he'd just eaten.


	4. Chapter 4

**Trying to get these guys back in their DVD box. They just won't stay. **

Mrs. Hughes was reassured by Mr. Carson's explanation and by not observing any signs of illness in him. She stopped worrying about him so much, and more importantly from his perspective stopped hovering. She was reassured, that is, until she happened upon a document on his desk.

She'd gone to his pantry to drop off the menu for the coming week and seeing that he was not there, simply walked over to place it on his desk. As she lay the menu down, she saw the first line of the document on his desk, "I, Charles Carson, being of sound mind…" She covered it quickly so that she wouldn't be tempted to read more. She had no right to see something so private, and a small part of her was embarrassed that she'd done so. A much larger part of her, however, was now very worried.

She walked quickly to her parlor so that she could think this over, shutting and, unusually for her, locking the door. She was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't even hear Mr. Carson's knock a quarter hour later. When she didn't answer he walked down to the servants' hall in search of her. Finding Anna instead, he asked if she'd seen Mrs. Hughes. Anna told him that she'd not seen Mrs. Hughes, but she had heard her parlor door shut a little while ago and assumed she was in there. He was puzzled and a little worried that she'd not answered his knock and so returned to try again.

Knocking, he called out this time, "Mrs. Hughes, are you well?"

After a moment's pause, she answered, "Yes, Mr. Carson, I am quite well. I will be out in just a moment."

Unfortunately, her voice wavered enough to increased Mr. Carson's worry dramatically. "Mrs. Hughes," he said lowering his voice as much as possible to avoid being overheard, "you will never convince me you are quite well when you sound like that. Please let me come in."

Just when he was starting to consider applying his shoulder to the door, it opened with a soft click. Entering quickly, he shut and locked the door behind him. Having worked so hard to gain admittance, he was surprised to find himself with an armful of Scottish housekeeper as soon as he turned around. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her head against his chest crying. He was so astonished that he could do nothing but put his arms around her shoulders and hold her tight against him, caressing her hair and making calming noises.

His thoughts were very confused. What could have happened to put her in such a state? The only thing he could settle upon was that maybe something had happened to her sister or, he thought darkly, to her farmer. As he was trying to decide whether he should move them to a more comfortable position, she tightened her arms around him and pressed her face deeper into his chest. No; he had stood still for hours in drawing rooms and dining rooms. He could stand here for days holding this dear woman if she wished it.

He could have stood there for days, that is, until she started to pound him unmercifully in his chest with her open palm. He released her in shock and after a few blows grasped her wrists to avoid permanent damage to his person. "Elsie Hughes, have you gone mad?"

"You lied to me, Charles Carson," she seethed.

Thinking back over the past several days and then weeks, he couldn't remember being anything but completely truthful with her. Well, he might have lied just a little when he said it was not a problem when she changed the dessert service at the last minute, but surely that wouldn't have her this angry.

"What are you talking about?" he asked perplexed.

"You told me you were in the prime of health, and yet today I find your will on your desk."

A little angry himself now, he asked, "And how did you just happen to read a private paper that was on my desk?"

"I didn't read it. I was bringing you the week's menus, and I laid them on the desk. It was right there in the middle of the desk, and I couldn't help but see the first line."

His anger softened a little, "Oh, yes; I had it out so Mr. Bates and Anna could witness my signature."

"See, that proves it. Why would you ask them to witness and not me unless you were trying to hide it from me?"

"Elsie, I am not hiding anything from you, although obviously it would be useless to try. You can't witness my signature because you are the beneficiary."

He had the pleasure of seeing her surprise, before she looked very much like she needed to sit down.

Guiding her to the sofa, he eased her down gently and walked to the side table to get her a glass of water. As she drank it, he wondered what and how much he should tell her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Yep. The C/H quotionent is pretty much off the scale in this one, so if you're not into that turn around and run.**

After she had finished her water and relaxed a little, Elsie looked over to where Charles was sitting in her armchair. He looked concerned about her. She could imagine why. She certainly didn't make it a habit of throwing herself in his arms weeping and then beating her butler. He was probably afraid of what she was going to do next. This week had been one of the most trying of her life, and she still wasn't quite in control of herself or convinced that he was completely well.

"Charles, will you please explain to me what is going on?" she asked gently.

He smiled at her still hesitating, and then said reassuringly, "Elsie, please believe me when I tell you that I am quite well. I would not hide that from you, even to spare your feelings. I had no intention of hiding anything from you. I simply wanted to be able to tell you in my own time and my own way."

"If you are quite well, why did you make out a will?"

"Well, I have no close relatives, only some distant cousins. I have managed to save a small amount of money, and I would like you to benefit from my savings, if and when I die. I will be 60 in a few weeks. It is likely that I will die before you, and I'd like to see you well provided for," he replied.

"Why?"

He looked at her confused, "I thought I just explained that."

"No; you just explained why you made out a will, not why I am the beneficiary. Why not Mrs. Patmore, or William, or Thomas?" he rolled his eyes grimacing at the last name and she smiled, continuing quietly, "Why me, Charles?"

He looked away from her toward the floor, a tiny muscle working in his jaw. She knew him well enough to know that he most certainly did not want to answer this question, but she knew just as certainly that she needed to hear the answer.

"Please tell me."

He looked at her then, eyes locked on hers. If she was going to force him to this, he wanted to see her reaction, "Elsie, I-, when a man loves a woman, he wants to see that she is taken care of even after he's gone."

She closed her eyes for a moment in gratitude and smiled, "You silly, silly man. Did it never occur to you that I'd much rather have you than your money?"

He sat there in shocked silence. He cleared his throat, "No; it hadn't occurred to me, actually. Do you mean that you-, that is, you could love me just a little?"

She studied the floor for a few moments before she said quietly, "Yes; I could love you just a little, but I actually believe that I love you quite a lot."

He was absolutely flabbergasted. He stood as if to move toward her and then sat back down. He couldn't think and almost couldn't breathe. Elsie looked at him worriedly and then crossed to the armchair to hug him to her. Charles turned his head toward hers and drew her to him for a deep kiss. Then, putting his hands on her waist he drew her onto his lap.

Resting his forehead on hers, he said, "Woman, if you want me to stay healthy, you need to be a little less direct. You've made me senseless."

She laughed a little, "Charles, I've worried myself sick about you for the past week. Thinking that you might be very ill made me realize how terrified I am of ever losing you."

"This is what had me so preoccupied the other day. I wished very much that we had this, us, together. I've loved you for a very long time, Elsie."

"Charles, you dear, dear man, you should have told me," she said as she hugged him closer.

"Well, it is a little hard to overcome forty years of reticence," he said with a rueful smile, "although now I've begun I should probably tell you the rest."

"The rest of what?"

"The rest of why it is so important to me that you be well provided for."

"Ahh; Go on then."

"You know that my mother was a housekeeper and my father was a groom, but you don't know that my mother did not become a housekeeper until after my father died. They were head housemaid and groom at a house two counties over, and it was just not allowed for the housekeeper to be married, especially to the outside help. When he died, she applied for the position here, and a widow with a single 12 year old son was welcome."

"Did you work as well, then?"

He smiled, "Yes; my first job was as boot black. It's why I still shine my own shoes each night; it relaxes me. I stayed until I was 16, and then I left, telling my mother I'd rather starve than be in service."

"This is when you met with Charlie Griggs," she stated, remembering.

"That partnership didn't last long, and I came back at 20 eating my words because I didn't have anything else to eat."

"Your mother got you a position here?"

He nodded, "I was now content to be in service, and she spoke to the butler for me. He took me into his pantry and informed me that I was a very stupid, silly boy and had caused my mother a great deal of grief. As a consequence of this, he was very angry with me but was willing, because of his regard for her, to take me on as a footman. He also informed me that if I disappointed her again, he would thrash me to within an inch of my life. Despite his being 30 years older than me and 8 inches shorter, I don't doubt he could have done it."

Laughing a little, Elsie said, "He must have loved her very much."

With a small smile, Charles agreed, "There were never any declarations, but I have always thought so. He was always very solicitous of her, and he certainly seemed devastated when she died."

"Charles, when did your mother die?" Elsie asked quietly.

"About five years after I came home," he stated flatly, "she worked up until the day before she died. We found her in her room when she didn't come down for breakfast."

"Oh, Charles, I'm sorry," Elsie said, hugging him close.

"Elsie, if my father had been just a little wiser with his money, when he died my mother could have left service; found a shop to run. I can't bear to think of you working right up to the very end. Can you see that I would like to spare you that? You deserve some peace and rest. If my frugality can give you that, then I will be glad."

"Thank you for wanting to take care of me, but I maintain that I would much rather have you than any amount of money," she said smiling as she kissed his forehead lightly, "Did it ever occur to you that if your mother had never come here, she might never have met her butler?"

He smiled sadly, "No; actually it hadn't. I hope that he was able to make her happy."

"I'm sure that he probably did," Elsie said drawing him to her for another kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm afraid this is so sugary sweet that it'll rot your teeth, but** **I just can't do sad endings.**

They sat for a while enjoying their new freedom to hold and kiss each other. However, there was still work to do, and they both moved off to accomplish their separate tasks knowing that they would be together again at the end of the day. The rest of the afternoon and evening was brightened by that prospect.

While he did go through the dinner preparations and dinner itself somewhat automatically, he thought that all went well. As well as an evening in which Mrs. Crawley and Lady Violet were both present could ever go, he imagined. Eating his own dinner he reflected how such a small change could make things so different. He now was Charles sitting beside Elsie, not Mr. Carson beside Mrs. Hughes. That slight shift made the difference between a life with which he was content and a life with which he was very happy.

Finishing his dessert, he smiled down at Elsie before returning upstairs to finish his evening's work. As he helped Mr. Crawley with his coat, he said, "Sir, I received your packet yesterday. Thank you very much. Will you send the bill to me here?"

Mr. Crawley smiled, "It was a simple matter; I can take it out of your first month's salary when I'm your employer."

"That's very generous of you sir, but I would like to pay you now. The results are well worth the price," he smiled thinking of Elsie.

"Very well, Mr. Carson, I'll send you the bill in a few days."

After they had left and the family had gone upstairs, he made his usual evening rounds gathering stray glasses and locking all the doors. He returned to his pantry to lock up the silver and sensed Elsie at the door as he turned the key. Turning to her he asked, "Has everyone gone to bed?"

She nodded, "Everyone except the butler and the housekeeper, who are going to the housekeeper's parlor for a private conference."

He chuckled, "Careful, Elsie, or I'll think you're propositioning me."

Smiling wickedly over her shoulder, she said, "Who says I'm not?"

His own smile broadened as he followed her to the door, then he turned back to retrieve a small packet from his desk, tucking it in his pocket.

He walked into her parlor to find that she was still standing by her door. She closed it behind him and locked it for good measure. Turning around she found herself surrounded by Charles as he pulled her into his arms and laid his cheek on her hair. She sank into his embrace with a sigh and began laughing softly.

He drew back to look down at her with eyebrows raised in question. Answering his look, she said, "It seems we are making a habit of passionate embraces by the door."

Humming in agreement, he placed his hand on her cheek and bent to make their embrace much more passionate indeed. Elsie gripped the back of his head to draw him closer while his arm tightened around her shoulders. Removing his hand from her cheek, he grasped her lower back pressing her tight against him. Elsie pulled back after several delightful moments with a gasp and clutched at his jacket. Kissing her temple, he asked, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm-, that was-, I'm very dizzy. Could we sit down?" she finally asked.

Chuckling, he scooped her in his arms and carried her to the sofa where he sat her down gently. She laughed in surprise and asked, "Charles, should you be doing such things?"

Looking at her sternly, he asked, "At my age? Do I need to remind you that I wasn't the one who was dizzy? Perhaps you should see the doctor."

"Yes, Charles, you win. No more questions about your health, unless you really do look unwell."

"Elsie, dear, I don't want to win anything, but if you constantly worry about me, we won't be able to move on to more 'exuberant' activities."

Elsie arched an eyebrow, "Exuberant activities? I'm not sure I follow."

Charles blushed and blustered, "Well, I thought that, given time, if you wish, we could…"

Elsie interrupted with a laugh to prevent Charles' actual death by mortification, "Charles, yes, I wish and we could, but while tonight might be too soon, I hope there's not too much time."

Relieved, he smiled, "No; 20 years is long enough, I think."

"You've loved me for 20 years? That's almost as long as you've known me."

"Well, not quite that long, 19 ½ years would be more right."

He stood then walking back to the door to remove his jacket, and Elsie encouraged him to take off his collar and tie as well. Coming back to the sofa, he sat with his back against the arm, pulling Elsie against his chest.

"Elsie, I have something that I have wanted to give you for a long time," he said pulling a small packet out of his pocket, fingering it for a moment, he continued, "Perhaps I shouldn't give this to you now, but I thought of what you said this afternoon about wanting me more than my money. It would have been cruel for you to have gone through my things and found this without knowing how I feel about you. You would have realized too late how I felt, I believe."

She looked at him questioningly and took the gift. As she opened it, she knew as soon as she saw the interlocking silver hearts what it was and tears filled her eyes, "Charles, this is a luckenbooth! Do you understand what this means?"

He nodded, "I believe that it is a gift given to the woman one wants to marry. My father gave it to my mother, and he'd received it from his mother. I'm not sure quite how many generations it goes back. There must be at least one Scots woman or man in my family tree. I was told that pinning it to my baby blanket saved me from the fairies, although they'd likely have thrown me back," he finished with a smile.

"Does this mean that you want to marry me?"

"It means that you are the only woman I would ever want to marry. I don't imagine many married men have been more faithful to their wives than I have been to you these 20 years. You and I may never feel that being legally bound is necessary, but my heart is married to yours and has been for quite a while."

"Charles, thank you. I'm honored that you would trust me with this. I can't imagine that I would ever feel for another man what I feel, have felt, for you. You are the only man I would ever trust with my heart."

"You'll wear it then?"

"Every day; although I may have to hide it a little."

"Thank you, Elsie. Thank you for loving me and letting me love you," he drew her close into his arms and kissed her with all the passion of the past 20 years and the hope for another 20.

**THE END **


End file.
